Super Cells
by webaholic
Summary: Spoof of super-heroes shows impact of cell phones on their adventures. Large DC/Marvel/Other cast including Spider-man, Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, Conan, & more. A little mystery, a bit of romance, lots of joking around and a dash of nostalgia.
1. Heroic Encounter

[Author's Note: Nobody ever seems to like this story. I would heartily appreciate reviews telling me, in a kind-hearted and specifics-loaded way, why.

Although I often complain about spelling out accents, sometimes it's allowed for comic effect, as in this silly spoof.

Thanks to anyone who cares to help!]

The Batmobile swooped around the corner of one of The City's seedier avenues, the screech of its tires joined by a jarring melody pulsing through the grimy air. DA-da-dada-DA-da-dada–

"Fer cryin' out loud!" Batman slammed the steering wheel. "Get that, will you, Robin."

"Caped crusader hotline. ... I understand. We'll hop to it."

Their suspect climbed a fire escape. Batman leaped over the car door and pursued. He yelled over his shoulder, "Well?"

"Alfred," Robin said, sprinting to catch up with his mentor. "Needs a half gallon of two percent milk." As his jab connected with the criminal's jaw, he watched the fellow slide to the metal landing. "Not skim," he added, patting Batman's six-pack abs, "two percent." He hefted the perp over his shoulder and grasped the chilly railing to descend.

The burglar flew from Robin's grasp, arcing up past several sets of boarded-up windows, and was reeled in over the ledge. A red and black mask leaned over the roof.

"Thanks, guys," Spider-man said. "I've been following this loser for three hours now. Great teamwork."

Batman, arms akimbo, snorted. "No problem, wall-crawler. Now let's all keep our eyes peeled for the latest masked menace: Brown Recluse."

"Great. We arachnids can duke it out and have a fine old time. Be seein' ya – oh, just what I need!" The webbed wonder threw up his hands. "Hang on a sec, guys." Muffled strains of conversation floated down. "Couldn't this wait, MJ?"

Peter Parker's part-time persona peered over the parapet. "My wife said to ask if you can bring guacamole to the Superheroes' Bash at Connie's."

Batman tilted his pointy-eared mask toward the rooftop. "Will do. How come my super-sensitive  
hearing didn't catch your phone ring?"

"I keep it on vibrate to sneak up on the baddies, duh."

"I told you we didn't need that flashy ringtone," Robin muttered from between clenched teeth.


	2. Love & Secrets

Wonder Woman was doing laps in the YWCA* pool, her wristbands glinting in the fluorescent light. As she sliced through the cool water, tenseness gave way to fluidity and her mind wandered.

Tracking the Brown Recluse has been tedious, but soon I'll make a breakthrough and put that bum behind bars until Jeb Bush's grandson is president.

The scent of smoked salmon tickled her nostrils as she entered the changing room. "Red Sonja, I didn't know you were in town!"

"Ya, I vas troppink in to fissit dat nice Thor. He hass a svell apartment vif great bik rooms. Ve trow tings at each odder – donderbolts, chavelins, suchlike. Unt he is knowink some important people here. Maybe he runs for kovernator someday."

Why, that two-timing Teutonic twit! "Hitch your wagon to a star, girlfriend. Well, I have to run," she added.

Wonder Woman, in the guise of Diana Prince, ambled into the alley behind the YWCA. Of all the things on her mind, being accosted by an archvillain was next to last on the list. At a blow from behind, the thought of enemies was bumped to the top of her consciousness just before it slipped away.

* Young Women Crimefighters' Association


	3. Hidden Treasures

She awoke in a garret smelling of dust burned by too many summers. Her bracelets were off, her lariat gone – all superhero trappings had been stripped.

Fortunately, the villain had neglected to find the credit-card-sized cell phone tucked into Diana's brassiere. Unfortunately, her manacled hands couldn't reach it. Fortunately, it was a voice-activated device. Unfortunately, the mic was somewhat muffled by its position next to her bounteous frontal assets.

In a room nearby, a petite figure in a dun bodysuit was mixing poison. "This'll show them," she grumbled to herself. "Think they're so great with all their powers and brawn. Hmmph! A good dose of brains will best the best of them."

She poured the solution into a Dom Perignon bottle, inserted a cork and wrapped it in wire and foil. "And a dose of this will put them in their place – six feet under!"


	4. Party Hardy If You're A Smarty

Conan the Barbarian* bustled about his penthouse, offering a canape here, pointing out the way to the WC there, host for the First Hopefully-Annual Superheroes' Bash. Maybe his suave demeanor and luxurious digs would attract a female superheroine; it was hard to find an understanding date when one was ... different. He hoped Wonder Bra, er, Wonder Woman would come. Although everybody from Dick Tracy to Wolverine was here, she was nowhere to be found.

"Say cheese," said a voice in Conan's ear as a buffed-up arm was slung across his shoulder. A miniature lens appeared in front of him.

"Daredevil! With a camera phone? I mean, you're, well–"

"Blind. Yeah, but with this puppy I can visualize the photos. Something about pixies."

"You mean pixels," Spider-man said, descending on a thread from the ceiling.

"Some folks know everything except when to stay out of a private conversation," Daredevil huffed.

Strains of "The Ride of the Valkyrie" swept across the room, followed by Thor's thunderous voice.

"Hello. ... We're breaking up! ... Hold on a little longer, I beg you. ..."

Conan's heart leaped. Perhaps Wonder Woman was tired of the Nordic nerd at last. All evening he'd hoped to hear his own phone ringing in response to the automated redials sent to her cell phone. He nudged his way through the crowd and arrived at Thor's side as the god was fitting the Nokia into a niche in his helmet. "Bad news?"

"Ja. Silver Surfer got arrested for distracted surfing. Has a hands-free model, too. But it was a bad reception, so I think he was weaving in traffic."

In a corner of the dining room, Batman and Lois Lane were exchanging confidences.

"It's not that I don't love him, Bruce – can I call you Bruce?"

"Just don't say it too loud. Bruce Banner gets positively green-eyed whenever one of us is talking to a beautiful woman."

"I'd rather take my chances with that Hulk than keep pretending I don't know Superman's true identity. Anybody can tell it's Jimmy Olson the cub reporter just acting incompetent so no one will guess!"

"You know, Lois, it's kinda crowded in here. Maybe we could find another room better suited to a real conversation."

"I'll tell The Supe I went to powder my nose. He always falls for that when I need to give him the slip."

In a tiny room off the kitchen, Lois and Batman scrunched on furniture suited to a midget. They were intrigued by a faint, bouncy rhythm seeming to emanate from a Degas print hanging above the miniature divan.

"What on earth?" Lois grabbed a shot glass from an end table, placed it against the wall, and mashed her ear against it. Her lips formed the words, "old reporters' trick." Replacing the glass, she told her companion, "That's Wonder Woman's theme music. Now, where could it be coming from?" She scanned the room; her eyes cut to Batman and locked with his.

"Secret panel!" they whispered in unison. It was short work to slide a bookcase back, pick the lock, and squeeze into the chamber to liberate Diana Prince, whose bra continued ringing throughout the rescue.

- - - - To Be Continued - - - -

* Feel free to substitute "Conan the Primal Tribesleader" for the purposes of political correctness.


	5. Reclusive Roundup

CHAPTER FIVE -The Grand Finale -

Back in the living room, Wonder Woman told the partygoers what she had overheard.

"But ... but ... that's Brunhilde's room." Conan's brow creased.

"Brown who?" asked Lois, notepad at the ready.

"She's my cook. Doesn't get in the way much. Sort of a, what-you-call-it, reclusive personality."

"Dresses in brown a lot?" Spider-man clung to the cabinets, tiny specks of oregano garnishing his fingertips.

Several of the group, faces lit with comprehension, dashed into the bedroom and stormed the hidden door. As the Brown Recluse returned through a skylight, the spandex-clad crew surrounded the minuscule maker of mayhem.

Superman grabbed the neckline of her uniform and hoisted. "In the name of all superheroes who fight for Truth, Justice, and the American Way, I arrest you." He tucked her under his arm and made his way into the kitchen, where Lois Lane greeted them with a bottle of champagne in a Ziploc bag.

"Superman, here's your evidence. May I accompany you to the police station?"

"Might be hard to steer carrying both of you. Batman, could you give her a lift?"

"Holy Triangle! I'll chaperone," Robin said, nodding vigorously. He followed Batman and Lois to the  
front door.

"Can you hear me now?"

"What was that?" Superman paused, halfway through an open window.

"Can you hear me now?" Daredevil repeated.

"Oh, you're on the phone. Thought you were talking to me." He leapt from the sill in a single bound.

"Must not have been mine," Daredevil replied. "Who else would have 'I'm Too Sexy For My Shirt' as a ringtone?"

Conan, clinging to Wonder Woman, dug in his loincloth for the T-mobile.

"Never shoulda done away with the good ol' two-way wrist TV," Dick Tracy scowled.


End file.
